Clean Smelling Sheets

On stage the set had changed to roses on the old castle walls, presumably the matured plants put there to honour the young king's grandmother all those years ago on her marriage to the then king. Here, sat sitting in my seat, I casually throw my left arm around my companion. She shrugs it off and leans away from me. I forget what happens in the remaining hour of that play.

Waking for work, I throw my clean laundry off the drying rack and onto my bed, the spin cycle indicates another batch done not quite in time. Electrical fires happen to other people, I head out the door forgetting my work security pass for the sixth time this week. At work the apple bowl provides a healthy breakfast, counter to last night's half-bottle of cheap gin, necked from the source whilst watching Doctor Who solve some dreary time and space conundrum.

A microwave meal bought on the way home. Stalled laundry process completed. Congratulate myself on avoiding any off-licence till past 10pm. Still no text. Tomorrow she's meeting my parents.

Waking for work, no time for a shower as I didn't sleep till 4am. Sneak past the friendly neighbour, her back to me as she does her recycling. A cheery, chatty lady who shares gardening tips with me. She grows roses. I haven't the heart to tell her I've no interest.

The two remaining apples are not the best, I make do with a cuppa tea and a fizzy Berocca water. Still no text.

Last year's depressive depths were concrete. Reasonable. Talk-aboutable

I remember the bus. Double decker. Red. Engine squeaking like a Star Wars TIE fighter. Brakes heavy. Pneumatic. Deadening.

I call... no answer.

She texts to say she's gone out with friends. No more. No more explanation, or thought.

I think I'm falling in love. Just casual like though, we agreed on that. We agreed that she couldn't be bothered with going through all that again. She has had all that.

I sit through dinner with the parents. Plenty cask conditioned beer helps. Explain that she has a work deadline she's not allowed to miss.

The bus came at me like an arrow. A welcome point put me back together again as it pierced my shell. The life before had to come to a very real end as much as the woman before had decided it must romantically, prompted by the never ending self-help book industry.

She calls to say her friend dinghied her and she's on her way. I tell my parents nothing but bid them adieu. She's mine and I love her. I am enjoying the butterflies of discovery that comes with. It's like being a teenager again. To climb out of the rut being with that last girl had become.

The scene opens as the king's guard are planting roses on anticipation of the Royal Wedding.